


A Tiger Walks Into a Bar

by MostlyVoidPartiallySnark



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Alcohol, Ball Flapping, Drunk Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark/pseuds/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark
Summary: And leaves with a very horny reader.





	A Tiger Walks Into a Bar

It's late. The bar is dim, the lights of the main room nearly completely extinguished. The soft music is louder than the scattered, muted bursts of conversation among the patrons still lingering. And you…

You're not entirely sure what you're still doing here.

The friends you came with left you long ago, pleading early mornings or sauntering off with their newest conquests. One of the girls left with a man on each arm; you envied her the most. But you hadn't been in the mood for any of the flirts who'd tried their tricks on you tonight. Not for lack of libido, mind, it's just that none of them…did it for you. And so you're left leaning on your elbow at the bar, staring into your half-empty glass and idly tracing a finger around the rim as you try to decide if you're too drunk to drive home.

A blast of cold air ruffles the back of your shirt as the door opens, then quickly shuts. Someone half-falls into their seat a couple stools down, huffing with the chill that lingers with them. "Just a beer," a male voice requests of the bartender before she can ask. "I'm not too picky."

You cut a quick glance toward the owner of the voice, then do a double take. He looks oddly familiar as he shrugs off his coat and accepts the glass the bartender slides toward him. Longish brown hair, warm eyes to match, a lithe form that nags at your memory…you _know_ him, you think as you squint at him from beneath the fringe of your hair. You just can't remember _why._

He glances over and you immediately return your gaze to your drink, but not quickly enough. Yeah, he definitely caught you. You're so busy cursing internally that you almost miss his tentative words – no, word. He calls your name.

Raising an eyebrow, you look back at him, and he grins. "That _is_ you!" he says, and the boyish delight on his face finally makes everything click.

"Kotetsu?"

His grin widens and he scoots over to take the stool next to yours. "God, I haven't seen you in ages!" he says. "How you been?"

Almost involuntarily, you return his smile. The last time you saw Kotetsu, you were a junior in college, too poor to go to the rock concert you were currently attending and too young to care about how you were going to afford it in the long run. He stood beside you and you fell to talking between sets…then during intermission…then long after the crowd carried you both out into the night. You always did regret forgetting to ask for his number, and even now, he still crossed your mind from time to time. "The one who got away" may have been a cliché, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, you wondered how much truth it held.

And now it's as if the intervening years never happened. Talking with him is as easy as it was that first night, especially as you finish your drink and he pays for your next one. Even as the bouncer gently shoos the two of you out at closing and you're thrust mercilessly into the frostbitten air, it's hardly an interruption.

For an instant, you debate calling a cab – you're definitely no good to drive now. But home isn't really _that_ far, and he just so happens to be walking the same way, and surely if you just keep moving you'll stay warm. That and his hesitant, inviting smile are all it takes to convince you to leave your car for the night and hoof it. You'll just walk with him until your paths diverge – and this time, you'll be sure to get his number.

You're too busy laughing at yet another one of his stories to notice at first when he slows to a stop. You turn to see him with his hands in his pockets under a streetlight, and he jerks his head toward the apartment building beside him.

"This is my stop," he says, and your heart drops. It's silly – you've only known him a few hours, even counting the first time you met – but it's true. You've never met someone so immediately likeable, so easy to be yourself with. Again with the clichés; again with the truth. Maybe it makes you a hopeless romantic, but you _like_ him.

"Guess this is where we part ways, then, huh?" you say, an edge of reluctance in your voice.

He hesitates, just for a moment. "Yeah…" He looks up at the building, then abruptly turns back to you. "You wanna come inside? Just for a minute," he adds hastily. "It's just – it's cold, y'know, so you should…warm up before you go."

You don't even think; you just smile. "It is _fucking_ cold," you agree amicably. "I'd love to come in."

His apartment is modest, but well cared for. It's clear he doesn't make the big bucks, but you hardly have room to judge there. Out of habit, you shrug off your coat as he shuts the door behind you, and immediately you sigh as warm air caresses you. You hadn't realized how cold you were until you, well, weren't anymore.

"You want something to drink?" he asks as light blooms from behind you – he turned on the lamp beside the door. "I've got tea, hot chocolate, something warm…"

You turn, your answer already forming on your lips, but it fades once you realize how close he is. You didn't step too far inside, and now he's barely a few paces away, his half-shadowed expression seeming more intense than it must surely be.

"Something warm would be nice," you admit, your voice breathier than you'd intended it to be. Barely noticing, you fold your coat over your arms and hug it to your belly like a shield – but against what?

"I can do that," he replies, and his voice is quieter than it was and _definitely_ strained. He steps closer, each footfall tightening something in your stomach, in your chest. It's not until he's right in front of you that he whispers, "What do you want?"

"I…" You swallow, your heartbeat throbbing in your temples. _I want you_ , you almost blurt, but that's ridiculous, it's like a line from some smut fic, it's asking way too much, it's-

You're not sure how his lips end up on yours, but they're soft and _warm_ and though they taste like a beer you don't particularly like, you don't exactly mind at the moment. You sigh and return his gentle pressure, dropping your coat to reach up and slip your fingers into his hair as he presses his hands against the small of your back.

You drift apart much too soon, and for a moment it's as if time is suspended in the breath between you. Then his eyes fly open and he jerks back – but he doesn't let go of you. "I-I'm sorry!" he stammers. "I-I shouldn't have done that, I- i-it-"

You grip the front of his shirt and his protests sputter into nothing. "Shut up and kiss me," you say.

Apparently he's not as shocked by your boldness as you are, because he complies without hesitation, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head as he kisses you with a new intensity. You respond eagerly, sliding one hand around his back to press him into yourself and bringing the other up to twine in his hair. The feeling of your fingers in his hair draws a groan from him, and you're rewarded with a swipe of his tongue across your lips in a silent question.

You part your lips more than willingly and let out a moan of your own as his tongue slips into your mouth and immediately begins to ravish it. His hand in your hair tightens until he's tugging, the pain giving an edge to the pleasure, and his arm tightens around your waist until your body is perfectly flush with his. Through the haze of desire you feel him pressing into your core, where heat has already begun to coil and pool, and you toss a leg up over his hip in an instinctive effort to bring that hardness closer. His response is to release your waist in favor of sliding his hand down, following the curve of your ass until he reaches your thigh, where he grips hard and hitches your leg up higher, bringing you still closer.

The feeling of his erection pressing into your center draws another moan from your throat, and you reflexively buck your hips, desperate for friction. He releases your lips but doesn't move away as he whispers, his mouth brushing yours, "Come to bed with me."

It's a question, not a command, and you can't help but grin. "Thought you'd never ask," you breathe in reply.

Then his mouth has claimed yours again but he's released your leg, and you're unbuttoning his shirt and he's unhooking your bra and sliding it and your shirt off all at once, and you kiss him while you unbuckle his belt and he shucks off his shirt and the coat you'd forgotten he still wore, and he pulls back only to slide your jeans and your panties off reverently, kissing his way down your leg until he's kneeling before you, and the way he looks up at you as you kick away your pants, God, it's like he's worshiping you, and standing there naked before him he almost makes you feel like you deserve it.

But you don't let yourself ponder it for long as you pull him to his feet and you both make your way toward his bedroom, bumping into the wall because you're too busy kissing, giggling into each other's mouths like teenagers at your own clumsiness, and when did his pants disappear? You're not sure and you don't really care, because now he's shoving you onto his bed and you're scooting up toward the headboard and he's chasing you with a grin to match your own, and he's catching you with his lips on yours and laying you back and covering your body with his and oh _damn_ do you want him more than anything right now.

You let out an undignified whimper when he pulls away from your lips, prompting a chuckle from deep in his throat as he starts laying a trail of kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Your whimpers become gasps and little throaty moans, and you tangle your fingers in his soft hair as he works his way toward your collarbone.

He adores you with his lips, with his tongue, with slight grazes of his teeth. Your skin is his canvas and he is the brush, lavishing attention on your breasts, on the curve of your waist, on the insides of your thighs. You sigh and squirm under his ministrations, your soft noises all the encouragement he needs. You've begun to curl in on yourself in pleasure, bringing your knees up so far your toes only brush the sheets, and he reaches for one of your feet for the sole purpose of kissing each one of your toes individually. His beard tickles the sensitive skin, making you giggle and wriggle, and he grins. "God, you're cute," he says, releasing your foot.

New heat suffuses your face, and you can't quite meet his eyes. "You don't have to lie," you murmur, though a smile still lingers on your lips.

"Hey." He grips your thigh just hard enough to make you look at him. When you do, you catch your breath at the intensity in his gaze. "I'm not lying," he says softly.

You open your mouth to protest again, but then he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, never breaking eye contact with you. He holds your gaze as he traces a path toward the apex of your thighs, toward the heat that's been aching for him since before you left the bar.

The sigh that parts your lips when he finally kisses you right _there_ is soft, gentle, the sort of sigh you might give when you sink into a warm bath after a long day. It makes him smile against your heat – you see it crinkle the corners of his eyes – before he gets to work with his tongue. Still keeping his eyes on yours, he slips past your slick folds with ease and drags his tongue up your entrance, slowly, teasingly. He flicks the tip against your swollen clit, making you whine in frustrated pleasure, before pulling back just enough to press gentle kisses around your outer folds.

You reach to slide your fingers through his hair again, making his eyes flutter and his lips falter for just a moment. Then you're gripping him hard as he spreads you open with his thumbs and swipes his tongue over your clit again, then again. His warm eyes are steadfast even as he swirls his tongue over your sensitive bud, the genuine affection there suffusing your chest and cheeks with a new, different warmth.

Then he releases you with one hand only to slide a finger inside you, then a second, and you break his gaze as your eyes flutter shut and you moan through a wave of ecstasy. Your hips buck up but he holds you down, his chuckle reverberating against your core. He keeps you like that, barely letting you wiggle as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt, so soaking wet he barely meets any resistance. He keeps his tongue on your clit as well, sometimes dragging across it, sometimes swirling around it.

No more does your breath start to come a little faster, your moans get a little higher, than he wraps his lips around your clit and _sucks_. At the same time, he curls his fingers just right and finds that elusive spot deep inside you, the spot you can never quite reach even with your favorite toys. The new sensations have your head dropping back and his name falling from your lips. "Don't stop," you beg him breathily, and he speeds up his fingers in silent reassurance.

It's not long before the hot-cold rush of your orgasm crashes through you and you're shaking around him, your body writhing in an excess of carnal joy. You practically scream as he continues to work you through the tidal wave of pleasure. Only when his ministrations begin to edge toward pain do you tug his head away from you, and immediately he slips his fingers out and brings his head up.

As you battle for breath, he sucks your slick off his fingers one at a time. The sight sets a new fire low in your belly, and it must show on your face, because the grin he flashes you is a knowing one. "Don't tell me that's all you've got," he says, though there is a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Please," you retort. "I could do this all night."

He grins before leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Good," he whispers against your skin. "But catch your breath first. I'll be right back."

You're happy to comply, and you stay spread-eagle on his bed as he gets up and moves away. The air seems distinctly cooler now – or is that just because you're so warm? You stare at the ceiling, a vague smile on your face as your breathing finally returns toward normal. _Round 2_ , you think as you hear his approaching footsteps. _Fight!_

You roll onto your side to watch him come closer, running your eyes over his naked body in very obvious appreciation. He stops, eyebrows raised, and wiggles his hips suggestively, making his balls flap and you snort. "Classy," you say as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls a condom from the box you just noticed he was carrying.

"You know it," he says, tossing the box haphazardly onto the bedside table.

He unwraps the condom, but a naughty impulse seizes you and you snatch it from his hands. Ignoring his protests, you reshuffle yourself until you're kneeling on the floor in front of him, your head perfectly positioned between his legs.

"My turn," you say, and you pop the condom in your mouth.

This, at least, gets him to shut up, and a flush spreads across his cheeks as you arrange the condom with one hand and reach for his cock with the other. He's mostly hard already, you're pleased to note, and a few leisurely strokes have him fully erect and gripping the sheets with white knuckles. This allows you just enough time to press the tip of the condom against the roof of your mouth and position the opening in front of your lips.

With everything in place, you're blessing all that time spent practicing on bananas as you press your lips to the head of his cock and slowly push downward, catching and holding his gaze as you unroll the latex onto his length. You're also grateful you buy big bananas, because it's taking some careful effort not to choke as he fills your mouth.

You can't help but wonder what it'll be like when he fills your cunt.

But that's not your concern for now as your lips meet the base of his cock. You use your fingers to make sure the condom is on completely, just to be safe, before pressing your tongue against the underside of his erection and, still with your lips wrapped around him, drawing back until you're just holding his head inside you.

His lips part and his breaths come faster as he watches you take him. You swirl your tongue around his head and use one hand to pump his length, slowly, carefully. Your other hand is gripping his inner thigh, partly to brace yourself, partly to keep him in place as you lavish attention on him in turn.

You switch from tonguing his cock to straight up sucking, and at the same time you move your hand from his shaft to give some love to his balls. You drag your nails over the sensitive skin, oh, so carefully, just enough to make him shudder and moan as your head bobs on his swollen head.

Suddenly he releases the sheets with one hand and grips your hair hard, pulling you off him. You comply, but you hollow out your cheeks so you release his cock with a sinful _pop_. He shudders and drops his head, seeming to collect himself, and you smirk. "Problem?" you ask innocently.

He chuckles breathlessly and shakes his head. "Unlike you," he says, "I _can't_ do this all night. So let's take it slow, eh?"

You try to pout, but you're too close to a smile. "Oh, I guess," you say.

His grip on your hair slackens and you stand, wincing as you stretch out your knees, before moving to sit beside him on the bed. He's leaning back on his hands, eyes closed and breathing deeply, and you note with a smirk that his raging boner has yet to diminish. _Damn. I_ am _good._

You lean your head on his shoulder, content to wait a moment if it means more sex, and are surprised when he plants a light kiss on the top of your head. The gesture is so warm, so casually intimate, that it makes you blush even as you snuggle closer to him.

Okay, maybe you really are a hopeless romantic after all.

He brings a hand up to skim over the curve of your waist before tugging lightly at your hair, an invitation rather than the order of before. Still, you lean your head back obediently and catch his lips with your own, a soft kiss that may lack the heat of before but is no less passionate for it.

You trade soft kisses for countless moments, you bringing a hand up to trace his jawline, he running his fingers gently through your hair. Slowly, your kisses grow more heated, his fingers in your hair more insistent, until you're falling back and pulling him with you and it's a tangle of limbs and tongues until you're nestled beneath him and he's hovering over you with eyes darkened by need.

"Take it slow, huh?" you quip, and his grin is feral.

"Fuck slow," he growls before claiming your lips in a searing kiss. You moan into his mouth as he wastes no time ravishing yours with his tongue. Your hands are everywhere, clawing at his chest, his back, tugging his hips closer to yours. You need him, and you need him _now_.

As if hearing your unspoken demand, he breaks your kiss and leans his forehead against yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. You feel the tip of his cock teasing you, and you bite your lip to fight the urge to whine about it as you take in the sudden seriousness on Kotetsu's face.

"You can still say no, you know," he says, and that simple concern makes your heart swell with appreciation and affection.

"I know," you reply. "I just don't want to."

He grins then, a cheeky expression nearly at odds with the situation, before pressing himself into you. Your dripping sex accepts him readily and you don't hold back your drawn-out moan as he sheathes himself completely, his hips touching yours as he waits for you to adjust to his fullness.

"You good?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

"Fuck," you gasp, your eyelids fluttering. "Do that again."

He dips his head down to chuckle against your throat. Then do it again he does, withdrawing so only the tip of his cock is still inside you, then pushing himself back in. He goes slowly at first, still letting you get used to the feeling of him. But he picks up the tempo as you start rolling your hips to meet him, urging him on with your sighs and hitches of your breath.

He litters your neck and shoulder with kisses between grunts of effort and groans of pleasure. In turn, you dig your nails into his back, leaving your mark even as you try to pull him closer. The mattress creaks beneath you as he pounds into you, and while ordinarily you might feel sorry for the neighbors when the headboard starts to smack the wall, at this point all you care about is getting more of him.

Your moans grow louder as heat builds inside you, coiling tighter and hotter until you feel you might explode. You're practically keening by the time he reaches down and slips his thumb between your folds to rub circles on your clit, and that's all it takes to shove you over the edge.

You do scream this time when you come, pure ecstasy carrying your voice farther than you'd ever intended. Your voice covers his as he finds his own release, his thrusts stuttering even as his thumb works furiously, but you feel him moaning against your throat, and if you were more coherent you might swear his lips form your name.

Finally, your grip on him slackens, he slips out of you, and you lie beside each other for a moment, panting in the lust-soaked air. He sits up for a moment and you hear some fiddling, followed by the soft _thump_ of a used condom finding its new home in the trash, and then he's back by your side once more, pulling you to snuggle against his chest.

"You know," you say after a moment of silence, "when you offered something warm, I thought you meant something to _drink_."

He chuckles, and you close your eyes and smile as it reverberates against your skin. "I did," he confesses. "But I think this was more fun."

You smirk. "Fair." His eyes are soft and open when you meet them, and like some ridiculous schoolgirl, it makes your heart skip a beat. "But I _am_ thirsty now," you say.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "So I noticed." You squawk and poke his chest indignantly, and he laughs. "You never even told me what you wanted!" he protests.

"I did so," you retort. "I wanted you."

"And you got it." He leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate, giving up the insulted act.

"Seriously, though," you say as you part, "I _am_ thirsty."

Kotetsu chuckles and rises. You miss his warmth, but you _do_ appreciate the view of his ass as he walks away from you. "C'mon, then," he says. "I've got a warm something with your name on it."

"Yeah, I bet you do," you murmur to yourself, grinning, as you follow.


End file.
